


A Bouquet of Silent Princesses

by TheFledglingDM



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Liberal use of Italics, Minor warnings for descriptions of nightmares or PTSD, Recalling memories, Romance, SPOILERS for some memories/the True Ending, Some Humor, and MIPHA, in this HOUSE we LOVE and RESPECT ZELDA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15826944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFledglingDM/pseuds/TheFledglingDM
Summary: A feeling rose in Link at the sight of this flower - of longing, of hope, of fear, of joy and sadness and anticipation and expectation and loss. He knew two things, looking at this flower.First, that it was called the Silent Princess.And second, that he needed as many of them as he could find.





	A Bouquet of Silent Princesses

**Author's Note:**

> A sort of cute work that accidentally got much longer than I intended, included a bit of world-building, and now I may write more about this rendition of the BotW universe. 
> 
> NOTE: some spoilers for a few memories and the True Ending of the game.

**i.**

It starts in Kakariko Village.

The past few days - weeks? months? years? - have all blended together in a haze of _where am I what am I doing I must do this I must do this I must I must I must._ Just what he _must_ do remains just out of reach in the vast gaps of his memory, sitting on the edges of his consciousness the way a forgotten word sits on the tip of the tongue.

Impa, old, wizened, wrinkled with liver spots dotting her face, had given him her instructions. Reclaim the Divine Beasts. Defeat Ganon. Save the Princess. And maybe, along the way, rediscover his memories.

He may have no memory, but something about seeing Impa small and curled sent a weight of lead slithering down his throat to rest heavily in his stomach. Once, this woman had not sat tired and frail on her cushion. He’s not sure what she looked like, that century ago, but this…is another reminder of the time that has passed, of a mission he has failed and forgotten, of what he lost while sleeping.

So now here he sat on the hill overlooking the Village, back against the apple tree and legs swinging. Thinking.

Reclaim the Divine Beasts. Defeat Ganon. Save the Princess. Listed as if they were so easy, like checking things off a shopping list. As if he hadn’t failed them all and lost everything already.

With a heavy sigh, Link stood. The shrine beside him glowed blue, a sign that he had received the Spirit Orb that once sat within. The small victory felt like a mockery now. One small shrine of a hundred, a tiny accomplishment in the face of overwhelming odds. He turned away and walked deeper into the forest. What if he never came back? What if he just disappeared, became a hermit, lived off the land? No one knew him; no one missed him; there was no one he could let down.

Except for Impa. The Princess. And all of Hyrule, again.

Hopelessness and helplessness welled up in him, so strong that he wanted to groan or cry or run into the woods and never come out again. But as he broke into a sprint, he was stopped just as quickly by what he saw when the path widened into a clearing.

The first thing he noticed was the bulb: enormous, at least twice his size, the leaves of an enormous flower curled upwards like a blossom about to bloom. In its front were a series of mushrooms, fashioned in the shape of an incline up to the bulb. Was he supposed to walk up, climb inside? Was this how to hide away from the world?

Next were the small, floating lights. For a moment he thought they were a type of firefly he had no yet encountered, one that appeared in the middle of the day. But their soft pink glow and iridescent blue wings were unfamiliar, and as he approached, it fluttered away from him, its wing flaps tinkling like bells.

His leather boots sank to the ankles in wet, marshy earth. He pulled out a foot, swearing as his socks filled with water, and saw the life all around him - green and red mushrooms, carrots, Hyrule herb, wildflowers. His eye caught on one especially beautiful flower, tucked away under the enormous green bulb as if hiding.

He approached it slowly, as if the flower might up and bolt. In the shadow, its blue and white petals seemed to glow faintly, its filaments topped in blue and its stigma in soft yellow. The stem curved gracefully as it twisted its flower toward the light.

A feeling rose in Link at the sight of this flower - of longing, of hope, of fear, of joy and sadness and anticipation and expectation and loss. He knew two things, looking at this flower.

First, that it was called the Silent Princess.

And second, that he needed as many of them as he could find.

With careful, trembling hands, Link plucked it.

**ii.**

So it began.

The Silent Princess was not a common flower - it took him some time to begin accumulating them. They were sweet and fragrant, whether fresh or dried. The scent was much weaker than the herbs, violets, and safflinas that dotted the landscape. When the flowers began to wilt, he purchased a small glass jar and began to place the dried petals inside when they fell. In Hateno, he bought a blank, leather-bound book, pressing the flowers between the pages. It felt natural to write his thoughts and experiences in this book as he took photos with the Shiekah Slate and filled the Compendium. Perhaps he had journaled in his past life. Perhaps he was now an entirely new person.

Ruta. Medoh. Naboris. Rudania. Recovering the Master Sword. He wrote of his travels, his fights, of the bittersweet memory of his friends, of Mipha’s sweetness that he had misunderstood in his past life, of Revali’s confidence and arrogance he had once disdained and now missed, of Urbosa’s dry wit and force of personality, of Daruk’s rough, unaffected warmth and friendship. Of Sidon’s eagerness and desperation to fill his sister’s shoes, of Teba’s thirst to prove himself as a protector of his people, of Riju’s mixed desire to be the child she was and the ruler she must become, of Yunobo’s attempts to live up to his ancestor’s bravery. Of the slow memories he was collecting, snippets of his past life - a knight Chosen by the goddess to protect her charge, an obstinate, headstrong, powerless child.

That was how Princess Zelda appeared in the first memories he recalled. A few years younger than he, aging from sixteen to seventeen in the course of the time they spent together. With his hazy recollections, he surmised they had spent nearly a year together, but he had no current means of knowing for sure. She had hated him at first, that much was clear. He learned as much from one of their early conversations, where he chased his missing charge out to the Ancient Columns of Tabantha -

_“I thought I made it clear that I am not in need of an escort.” The words were bitingly polite, hinting at the rolling temper burning beneath the surface. The wind blew, ruffling her hair, and she tossed it imperiously from her face to maintain her dignity. It flashed in the afternoon sun. “It seems I’m the only one with a mind of my own. I, the person in question, am fine, regardless of the King’s orders.” She shot him a glare, fists clenched. “Return to the castle, and tell that to my father. Please.” The last word seemed added on as a formality, rather than any genuine request._

_Zelda stalked past him, making her way to her horse. Link let out a sigh of irritation and followed, partially because it was his job, but mostly because his horse was next to hers. She heard his footsteps and stopped short, whirling around._

_“And stop following me!”_

_At that, Link snapped._

_“It’s my job, Princess. You and I both know that’s not an option.”_

_Zelda frowned. It seemed, now that he had caved and taken the bait, she was equally irritated that she now had to engage with him. “If you think you are going to keep me from my research - ”_

_“Why would I want to do that?” Interrupting the Princess was, technically, a no-no for a knight of any rank, but Link was too surprised to hold his tongue. Zelda stopped short, blinking. Link carried on, “Do you think those are my orders?”_

_“Are they not?” Zelda demanded. “The King has made it clear that he does not approve of my research. He has appointed you to protect me and follow me everywhere. Is that not code for ‘babysit her, make sure she prays at her appointed times, and don’t allow her to research?’”_

_“No,” Link said. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or yell in frustration at her obstinance. Now he thought of it, this was the longest conversation they’d yet had. “I don’t care what you do or where you go. My orders are just to go with you and protect you in case there’s trouble.”_

_Zelda frowned. “And how am I to trust your word?”_

_“Because I have this sword and am going to have to keep following you whether we like it or not.”_

_Her lips twitched, a hint of a smile threatening to betray her, which was a much better reaction to his insubordination than he anticipated. She pursed her lips back into a severe line and whirled back around to her horse. Link stayed where he was, watching her hair, the graceful way she pulled herself up into the stirrups. She caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow._

_“Well?” She asked. “Are you coming?”_

She was irritating, but as he regained his memories, he could understand why. With her power unresponsive, the pressure to unlock it and connect with the Goddess Hylia mounted with each passing day. The selection of Champions, the awakened Divine Beasts, and the Master Sword’s selection all indicated that the Calamity’s return was imminent, within their own lifetimes. With Hylia’s blessing missing, the Princess turned to other exploits to make herself useful: history, archaeology, religion, the sciences, diplomacy.

Zelda talked circles around him, endlessly, thinking as much out loud as she did when she wrote her findings, hypotheses, and observations in her field journals. Forever inquisitive, she filled the silence between them with questions neither of them could answer: _What was the original purpose of the Sheikah Slate? How do we access these Shrines, and if they are meant to only be accessed by the Chosen Hero, why do they not open for you? If the Sheikah who built these guardians were so advanced, why do we have so little written and archaeological evidence for them? This book says that common creatures may be stewed to extract their magical properties - does this mean rodents, monsters, butterflies, bugs, beetles? Here, Link, eat this frog for me and tell me how you feel._

__

_Absolutely not, Princess._

Recalling how he once heard her voice all day, Link finds the solitude of his travels even more lonely than they once were.

**iii.**

He started to write her letters.

They started in his head, sometimes out loud - his voice filling the empty air of the silent night beside the campfire or solitary strolls through the forest, beach, plains, deserts. He still heard her voice sometimes, after defeating all four Divine Beasts, in his memories, in warning on the Blood Moon. A hundred years later, he returned the favor, talking to the empty air as if she might hear him. These free-form letters were innocent enough - _Dear Zelda, today I fought a Lionel up in the Akkala region and it dropped two pieces of topaz and a sapphire, and I don’t know where they were being kept and I’m afraid to find out. Dear Zelda, today I found a white stallion who looks just like your old horse. I tamed her and brought her into a stable for you if (if? when?) this is all over, since your old horse is gone. I named her Princess, but you can change it if you want. Guardian seemed to like her. That’s my horse. Dear Zelda, today I stewed a frog and I was able to run really fast for about five minutes. I wrote down the recipe for you to study but I don’t think I want to do it again._

Then they become letters he wrote in his field journals, lounging against Guardian’s navy blue back for warmth. He snuffled grumpily about this indignity before Link gave him some apples to snack on, the spoiled beast. He looked out across the rolling hills below him.

His journal was balanced on his tucked knees and he frowned, thinking. Writing.

_Dear Zelda,_

__

_Today I found another memory. It was a better one than the last few. Less tense, at least. I think it was a few months before the Calamity. We were taking a rest from the road during a storm. You asked me if I would have chosen a different path, if things had been different. I don’t remember what I answered then, or if I even did. But I suppose I could answer now._

_Back then, it probably seemed silly to imagine a different path. The Master Sword saw to that. And even were I not the one the Sword chose, I was still a Knight. I would have had to serve you and your father in some capacity my entire life. The only change then would have been I was not the poor fool made to suffer your ire. (I’m kidding. Half-kidding.)_

_Now, I’m not sure. When I awoke and had no memories, a part of me wondered if there had been some mistake, or if the world thought to play some practical joke on me. I wondered if I better not just run as fast as I could go and hope that destiny would not catch me. But now I shall carry on with my task, steadfast as ever. Perhaps more so; back then, I never needed to secure the Divine Beasts or unlock shrines. It may be as silly now to think of an after, but were I to pick, perhaps I would be a traveling merchant. It’s been surprisingly lucrative, traveling the continent. I even bought a house in Hateno. Maybe I would open a store there._

_Maybe Hyrule will want another kingdom and monarch. In that case, I would consider my work unfinished if I left then. I could be a merchant as well as a knight. Maybe we would_

_I’m not sure how to end that sentence, so I won’t for now._

Link did not sign the letters, because he did not know how to. To sign _sincerely_ felt too formal, _best_ felt like a boast to what he remembered as a shaky sense of self-worth and confidence, _yours_ too…something. But he did not stress over it; wherever she was, if she could read them one day, she would understand.

**iv.**

More time. More shrines. More challenges and Silent Princess flowers. The glass jar was half-full by now, and he was still not sure why he needed to collect these flowers so urgently.

One day, crossing the Hyrule Ridge, an oddly-placed tree caught his attention. Frowning thoughtfully, he walked over to it, studying the valley, the darkly silhouetted Hyrule Castle, and recalled -

_“This one here is called the Silent Princess. It’s a rare, endangered species. Despite our efforts, we can’t get them to grow domestically yet. The Princess can only thrive out here, in the wild. All that we can hope is that the species will be strong enough to prosper on its own.”_

__

_She sat up, one hand over her chest, staring sightlessly ahead, and Link knew she was no longer just talking about the flower. Without knowing why, Link remembered feeling his heart swell with emotion at the sight: in the desire to comfort, the pain of not knowing how, the awe of watching the sun shine in her eyes and carefully avoiding watching her backside as she leaned down to fetch something else, and -_

_Well, that explained his aversion to frogs._

A hundred years later, Link made a fire on the ridge and sat facing the castle. The memory explained why it was the Silent Princess he sought, but not why he needed it.

“I heard you, you know,” Link said. His back was against the tree and he spoke in the direction of the castle as if Zelda might hear him. “Talking about the Princess being strong enough to prosper on its own.” He hesitated, still feeling as if his words were somehow crossing a line. “You were strong enough. Then, and now. Some things aren’t meant to be tamed, domesticated, locked inside all day. Kept from the sun or from their studies.”

_It was wrong,_ he wanted to say but was still afraid to. _It was wrong then, and it was wrong now. Locking you in temples all day was not going to unleash the power. You deserved better then. You deserve better now, and when all of this is over, I’ll-_

__

_Maybe we can-_

The words failed him, and he could only clench his fists over his knees, furious and miserable, gasping at the tears rolling down his cheeks and the nameless, yawning chasm of longing and grief threatening to swallow him whole.

**v.**

Another set of challenges. He would take no chances in ensuring that this time, he would defeat Calamity Ganon. Following the tasks set forth in the Champion’s Ballad, he made his way all over the continent to find new shrines, more memories. The monks in their old, tattered vestiges gave him their Spirit Orbs, the small statues of Hylia scattered around the provinces extra snippets of health and stamina. It felt like a cruel twist of fate to be given this assistance when Zelda spent years praying fruitlessly at old statues. But it was another step towards ending this, once and for all, and being reunited with Zelda again so that…

He didn’t _know._ The memories were small snippets, but he felt a tugging on his chest with every new memory, a rising swell of affection that felt totally inappropriate but also entirely _right._ He wanted to see her again and figure out why. He wanted to start again.

The final battle with Maz was grueling, the old monk throwing his best at Link. When he finally exited the Shrine of Resurrection the victor, weary and bruised, he stumbled towards the exit ready for a full meal and a warm campfire. But first, he needed a break; he lowered himself onto the floor to regain his strength, bracing himself on an old chest he had once tugged an old linen shirt and pants from. The trunk shuddered under his weight, and as the old crate tilted back, he heard a rattling from within.

Link grimaced. He was not in the mood to fight anything else today.

Carefully, Sword ready in one hand and the other on the lid, Link pulled himself to his knees and flung the chest open. A bound leather book sat innocently at the bottom, a folded note neatly on top.

Link pulled it out gingerly. The book was heavily worn but well-tended, the leather scratched and the pages wrinkled and stained, as if it had spent a great deal of time squashed into the bottom of a bag. But it was carefully mended, and as he opened it he saw that the inside pages were covered in a familiar handwriting. The note fluttered into the nest created by his folded knees; he lifted it, eyes quickly scanning the unfamiliar, elegant, but shaky and tear-spotted scrawl:

_Link -_

__

_I have not much time; seeing you laid to rest, I must now place the Sword in the one place I know will be safe. I have placed your belongings into this trunk to reclaim after your rest. I have not read this field journal, though it was the one bright spot of this day to learn you had decided to keep one after my months of nagging. Perhaps you had it all along and simply enjoyed seeing my frustration. I hope it will help you remember._

_I shan’t tarry longer; I must face my destiny as you have. I know now I have the Goddess, and more importantly, you by my side as I walk to my fate._

_Yours,_

_Zelda_

Link read the letter twice, three times, heart beginning to hammer in his chest. What was this? The tone was so unfamiliar to his head, such warmth that his memories didn’t carry - but his heart hummed, crackling with the same sort of static that sparked off of the dragon Farosh’s scales. With shaking fingers, he opened the leather-bound notebook. It was dated some one hundred and one years before.

He recognized the writing as his own.

Then, he sat, voraciously reading as much as quickly as he could, all hunger and exhaustion forgotten. He read of his own trepidation at becoming the Champion of Hyrule, fearing the Goddess had made a mistake when she selected a Knight barely out of training and of his decicion to keep the damn field journal just to placate the Princess. Of his joy at seeing his childhood best friend, Mipha, again, his pride in her taking the helm of her kingdom to pilot Vah Ruta and her wry, understated sense of humor. Of his awe and fear of Urbosa that went away when she watched her decimate Daruk in a drinking contest following the Champion’s ceremony, where Zelda looked on worriedly and Mipha quietly took bets and egged them on. Of his irritation with Revali and his deeper disappointment in facing the other Champion’s disdain when, really, Link respected his skill and wished they could have been friends. Of Daruk’s prime rock roasts and the way he expertly seared steak and fish alike, perfectly cooking Hylian cuisine though he failed to grasp its allure.

He read how he and Zelda met their rocky, uncomfortable start and the beginning of their burgeoning working relationship. Which turned into friendship, morphing from Knight and Charge to best friends before he could realize it. How she spoke a mile a minute when she discovered a new solution or experiment, how he could tell the difference between her Court smile and Genuine smile from the appearance of a dimple on her right cheek, how she kept her strong facade for the good of the Kingdom but revealed the depths of her depression and loneliness when she thought no one would see - indeed, for quite a while, she seemed to think “no one” included him. How she burned eggs and singed apples in their campfires but successfully made a perfect salmon meauniere on her first attempt. How he once tried to teach her some basic sword and shield techniques if he were ever incapacitated or unable to come to her aid, and how she had studied him over her shield, green eyes sparkling with mischief, and despite her lack of military prowess still managed to knock him back by angling the shield just _so,_ with her knowledge of _physics_ and _motion_ and what-have-you.

Of how she fascinated and infuriated him, and educated and enchanted him, and his steady but unwritten realization that he loved his Princess. Here, he saw the original rendition of their conversation about life after the Calamity under the tree, and it suddenly came back to him:

_“It’s all set up,” Zelda said glumly. “Princess. Queen. Much as I want to be a scholar, I won’t let myself wish for it. Perhaps in another life.” She remained distant for a few more moments before looking at him. Her smile was forced, dimple missing, but her interest seemed real enough. “What about you? You could do anything you wanted after this.”_

__

_Link laughed. “I couldn’t. A Knight I am, and a Knight I’ll stay. It’ll be back to the barracks for me.”_

_Zelda tittered. “You think you’ll go through all of this, only to go back to the barracks?”_

_“I like the barracks.”_

_“You told me they smell of feet.”_

_“It’s home,” Link defended, and Zelda’s smile softened._

_“Very well. Back to the barracks you may go, Sir Link. But you’ll go back with enough titles, wealth, and prestige to do whatever it is you will forever. My father will see to that.”_

_She returned to stirring the pot over the fire, the only bit of cooking he trusted her to do unsupervised (the meauniere did not count). She did not notice Link’s lingering stare at the way the fire illuminated her profile, or the slow smile that spread over his lips._

One hundred years later, Link sat swallowing tears as he re-read the diary, everything making sense as he read the words in his own handwriting:

_Whatever it is I will? Then after this is finally over, I’ll gather up as many Silent Princesses as I can carry and ask her to be my wife._

**vi.**

She was right there.

Smoke swirled away from the scene as the mangled body of Ganon slowly morphed into gassy smoke. It stank of sulfur and rotted meat. He leaned heavily on his sword , bruised and injured but not in any immediate mortal danger. And in front of him was the Princess.

Zelda looked exactly the same as she had in his memories: tall, graceful, wide green eyes and long blond hair tucked behind her pointed ears. She wore the same dress that she had a century ago; it was torn and muddy, gauzy strips ripped and swirling in the wind. Her hands were folded in front of her, fingers nervously twisting. Her smile was hopeful.

“May I ask…” Her voice shook from disuse, exertion, and nerves. “…Do you really remember me? Did you regain your memories?”

Link stood, frozen at the vision in front of him. _Yes,_ he wanted to say, but he knew it was a lie. _Enough_ was also a lie, short of recalling every second it was not enough. _No_ was equally incorrect, because he did remember.

“Not everything,” He told her, his voice coming out in a croak. Zelda’s face fell before she schooled it again into a smile of understanding. But he was not fooled; the dimple was missing.

He couldn’t ask her to be with him, not yet. They were both fragile, she more than he, and she needed to grow used to the time that had passed and learn what she wanted to do before he could ask that of her. But now there was _time_ for that, weeks and months and years of time, and that certainty decided him. He had awaited a hundred years for this. He could wait a few more.

Link released his sword, letting it clatter to the ground and thud dully in the tall grass. Zelda stared, wide-eyed, as he lumbered towards her to wrap her in his arms. She started at the contact, and he almost pulled away to ask if he had frightened her, but instead she released her knotted hands to put her arms around his waist. Link closed his eyes, reveling in the touch, the warm weight of her in his arms. Had he held her like this, once?

Who cared? He was holding her now.

“Not everything,” He repeated. “But I can’t wait to make more.”

A soft breath, either a sigh of relief or an inhale as she caught his meaning. But Zelda’s fingers tightened on the material of his tunic and she tucked her face into the crook of his neck, and that was affirmation enough.

**vii.**

Weeks passed. It took some time for Zelda to grow comfortable in her own body again, the stasis wearing off slowly and forcing her to respond to the more mortal pressures of food and rest. She vacillated between no appetite and ravenous, insomniac and almost narcoleptic, but eventually her body began to return to its old normal. She still said her prayers in the morning and evening, out of habit than anything else, but they now carried more warmth and feeling than he ever had.

They returned to the house in Hateno, where Zelda was similarly charmed by the small town and rolling countryside. She refused to take his bed and his offer to sleep on the floor, so he hired Bolson to build a bedframe and they fashioned the storage area under the stairs into a guest room corded off by soft purple curtains. Purah and Zelda shrieked with glee upon their reunion, hugging and talking so quickly Link gave up trying to follow and instead went outside to prepare dinner. The two women were so engrossed in their conversation that he cooked, served the food, watched in bemusement as they mechanically ate it, and cleaned up all before they paused to catch their breath. Purah was delighted at Link’s gentlemanly conduct and Zelda blushed bright pink at her rudeness.

Link, for himself, enjoyed this time off, haggling some of his wares and stocks of monster parts, meats, gems, and fruits he had collected from his travels and selling them off. He also polished off a few of the last bands of roving monsters that roamed too close to the village perimeter for comfort.

It was not perfect. Link and Zelda both awoke in the night, tangled in their respective beds’ sheets and trembling from nightmares. They learned to soothe each others’ fears and midnight panics, sometimes sitting side by side until the other drifted back to sleep and sometimes staying up talking until daybreak.

Finally, after about a month and a half, Zelda looked up at him from across the table and said, “We should travel again.”

“When do we start?” Link asked.

In a few days, they decided. They fashioned a plan, polished off the most perishable foods and prepared the ones that would keep as they traveled. Zelda donned her old traveling gear and Link his now threadbare Champion’s Tunic, and they set off. Zelda had indeed taken to Princess almost immediately, though Guardian still liked to try and nudge her for extra carrots or apples when he thought Link’s back was turned. They set off along the road, stopping again shortly in Kakariko Village to rest for the evening and say hello to Impa. Once Zelda left to complete her nightly prayers at the village statue, Impa turned her withered stare to Link.

“What?” He asked, taking another mushroom-and-rice ball and popping it into his mouth.

“Just what is your role in helping the Princess reclaim her throne to Hyrule?” Impa asked.

“She doesn’t like to be called ‘Princess’ anymore,” Link reminded her. “Says it’s a remnant of a time past, and also it’s the name of her horse now. Tries to reduce the confusion.”

Impa rolled her eyes. “Are you going to make an honest woman of her?”

Link nearly choked at the direct question. “I - what?”

“I tried to argue it wouldn’t happen, but it appears I was mistaken. The Knight falling in love with his charge, the Princess with the blood of the Goddess. It has all the grandeur of a fairy-tale. I owe my sister a hundred rupees.”

“You bet that much on me?” Link asked. He wasn't sure if he should be flattered or insulted, but he was leaning towards the latter.

“No, we put interest on it as a joke and it’s come back to bite me on my spotted ass,” Impa sighed. “Just get on with it, boy. A hundred years is too long to wait when the world may fall in a single day.”

And that, Link supposed, was the kick in the ass he needed. They set out the next day, traveling to the Castle to see what may be salvaged. As they crested a ridge, Zelda stopped short. Her eyes were locked unseeingly on the castle, her breath growing shaky. Slowly, recognizing these signs, Link nudged Guardian to stand beside her steed. He carefully put a hand over her wrist where she clutched the reins with white knuckles.

“Zelda?” He asked, his voice low and quiet. Zelda still jumped as if he had yelled.

“I - ” She panted. “I don’t want - I can’t. I can’t go back there. I can’t go _in_ there. I can’t live in that prison again.”

Link nodded. “Okay.”

Zelda whipped her head around. “Okay?” She repeated. “It’s the place of the throne, the center of Hyrule, the former symbol of the Kingdom. I can’t just leave it to the elements.”

“Fair,” Link concedes. “But it’s also now the symbol of your former prison. Don’t go back, then. Anyone that would have once cared to see it standing is long gone.”

Zelda blinked, two surprised tears rolling down her cheeks. “I suppose that’s true. In a morbid way.”

Link shrugged. “What instead?”

“I don’t know.” Zelda climbed from her horse to settle on the ground. Now that she was out of her head, she peered around them. Her lips parted in awe as she looked up at the ridge above them. “Oh, Link,” she breathed. _“Look.”_

He did. Now that he was not focusing on her, he saw that the grass around them was covered in Silent Princess flowers. Their petals fluttered in the breeze, pollen almost making the air glitter. Link studied her again, watching as she took out the Sheikah Slate to take photos. For a long while, they simply stood in companionable, pregnant silence on the ridge, Zelda in thought, Link screwing up his courage.

“We’ll make our way to Zora’s Domain,” she said suddenly, as if starting in the middle of a conversation. “Divine Beast Vah Ruta looks like it stopped working. Let’s investigate the situation.” She paused her businesslike air, looking towards the distant city of sparkling stone. “Mipha’s father. I believe he would like to hear more about her. The least we can do is visit him and offer him some closure. Although Ganon is gone for now, there is still so much more for us to do. And so many painful memories that we must bear.”

Link stared, listening as she tells him of her plans to regrow Hyrule. His chest swells and heart turns to static at her words, as she said that _we_ can restore Hyrule, it must start with _us_ , _let’s/ _be off. She jogs off, leaving him staring, wishing, hoping, starting to fumble for his pack. There’s not much to do with the dried petals right now, he’ll work something out later, but he freezes again as she talks about the Master Sword, her acceptance of not hearing it anymore. Of learning to live without her power, the power she had once agonized over not having. The message of growth was clear and filled him with such pride that he wondered if he might burst from it.__

__

____

Zelda turned to walk again, but he called after her. “Does this mean you’d like me to stay with you?”

Zelda froze before whipping around. A blush rose from her neck to the tips of her ears. “Oh - well - I mean, you’ve done more than enough for Hyrule. I won’t dare presume to ask for more, or ask you to - I’m sorry, it’s childish of me, and selfish, not to stop to think of a path where we aren’t” - _aren’t together,_ Link hears, and he knows she’s close to saying before she stops herself. “It’s your life, Link. There is no more Hyrule Kingdom, no royal guard. So I believe I must now release you, officially, from all your duties to do as you will.”

“Thanks,” Link said. He remained where he was, trying to force some movement into his frozen legs. His heart was pounding, stomach twisting in knots and nerves. He had faced lynels and bokoblins and Calamity Ganon himself in six different forms, but he was putty in front of this woman. Zelda peered at him for another moment. Disappointment flashed in her features, and she turned to keep walking.

Movement returned. Quickly and quietly as he could, Link reached down to collect as many flowers as his hands could fit. He was left with a comically large bundle, so large it obscured his hands, as he walked after her. At the sound of his footsteps, Zelda whirled again, one hand on Princess’s reins. Her face was flushed in embarrassment, the beginnings of tears in her eyes, but both fell away as she took in the ridiculous image in front of her.

“Link,” She started, “What - ?”

“I’m yours,” he interrupted her as he had all those years ago. “Wherever you go. Whatever you do. I only want to go with you, and protect you in case there’s trouble.”

Doubt and confusion still warred in her eyes. Slowly, Link lowered himself to one knee, the bouquet extended towards her. He repeated, “I only want to go with you.”

Zelda blinked, two surprised tears rolling down her face. Then she smiled - wide, true, genuine, that dimple appearing again - and bid him, “Then rise.”

Grinning, Link obeyed, stepping to her and presenting her with the flowers. She giggled, burying her face into the petals only to sneeze. Link tucked a bloom into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. For a moment they stood, frozen in time.

Zelda reached for him and pulled him into a close embrace. He returned it, only releasing her when she moved. She beamed up at him, reaching up to press a kiss to his sun-tanned cheek.

“Let’s be off, then,” she said, they rode off through the fields of Silent Princesses.

**Author's Note:**

> me @ me: damn,,,,, bitch,,,,,, you like italics and,,,,, commas
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Validation would be lovely but not necessary, and lmk if people want more of a look into this rendition of the BotW world. 
> 
> Also names for the horses are based off of what I named them in my own game.


End file.
